


What Could It Be Worse?

by orphan_account



Series: Fix You Series [5]
Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst and Porn, BDSM, Cock & Ball Torture, Dom/sub, F/M, Impact Play, Non-Canon Relationship, Painplay, Panties, Sex Toys, Vaginal Sex, Waxing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-12 18:32:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19950898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It's wheels within wheels with these two. Mallory buys Michael a gift.





	What Could It Be Worse?

**Author's Note:**

> Kai decided to make an appearance. The footstool line belongs to Chekhovs_Power_Loader, bless her genius. 
> 
> The plot and characters of American Horror Story: Apocalypse belong to Ryan Murphy and Brad Falchuk. The title and name of the series are from Cold Play's Fix You.
> 
> All mistakes are my own. Not beta read.

Mallory’s been waiting for this day for four weeks. She’s spent 28 days plotting and sneaking around.

Avoiding Michael has been difficult. She’d caught him loitering outside her room the other night, waiting for her to return. Despite his nosiness, she thinks he’s still in the dark about her plans.

He’s been...affectionate since their last session and it's freaking her out. Mallory’s used to him ignoring her presence until he needs a fix. Michael making cow eyes at her and finding excuses to touch her was not something she’d anticipated.

She’d liked him better as a footstool.

When Mallory's making Michael cry and shake, the complications between them are easy to ignore. As much as she wants to hate his affection, she finds that she can’t rebuff him. She’s addicted to the high as much as he is.

When they’re in a scene there are no alternate timelines or prophecies to worry about. Their world consists of commands, colours and sensations.

For the past few weeks, Mallory’s been very careful to transmute herself a block over before catching an Uber to Tickle Your Fancy.

The brick and mortar shop has become a second home. When she walks through the door, a moan sounding throughout the shop, she’s Mal the Domme. She’s not Little Mouse or Poor Dear. Just Mal.

The owner of the shop, Kai, had taken a liking to her immediately. He’s excited by her curiosity and the opportunity to teach her about the products she’s shown an interest in. When Mallory shared her desire to incorporate wax into her play, he was happy to work out potential alternatives to candle and flame. He’d even hosted a workshop about scaling kinks to meet individual needs.

For the past two nights, Kai has been helping Mallory hone the technique and after care procedures required for her next scene. He sent her home last night with the assurance that she’d do great and an offer for her and her sub to spend a weekend at his fetish retreat in the bayou.

Mallory liked Kai, but what he was offering sounded intense and weirdly permanent? She’d declined with an excuse about Michael not being ready for a public debut.

\--------------------------------------------

Mallory’s perched on the end of Michael’s bed when he storms into the room swearing at someone on the phone. He’s dressed down, probably in an effort to blend in with the plebs. When he catches an eyeful of her knee-high boots and sleeveless dress, he’s quick to end the call. “I have to go. Find out who cancelled my appointment and fire them!”

Mallory inspects the chips in her black nail polish as he draws closer. “No need to torture the peasants, Michael. I’m the one who cancelled your appointment.”

Shock warps his handsome face into something comical. “What?! H-how do you even—What the fuck, Mallory!” Red fills his cheeks as he sputters to a stop.

“How do I know about your waxing appointment? Well, your man-scaping habits were pretty obvious the last time I had you spread open in a chair. “Unless you’re telling me testicular alopecia runs in the family?”

She smirks as Michael makes a hissing noise. He’s quick to gather himself at her amusement, a haughty mask falling over his face. “Yes. I wax. It’s preferable with my taste in undergarments.”

Mallory twirls her hair around her finger. “Oh, I know. That’s why I’m going to do your wax tonight. I can’t have you looking untidy when I give you your present. Colour?”

Michael hooks a finger in the collar of his shirt and swallows. “Green. A present?” He looks overcome with glee at the prospect of receiving a gift. Mallory wonders when someone last gave Michael something because they wanted to, not out of a sense of duty to his father. Probably not since his aborted childhood.

Shaking off that depressing thought, Mallory moves to stand in front of Michael and peers up at him, blinking her doe eyes. “If you’re a good boy you’ll get your present later. Strip and get on the bed. Hands behind your head.” He starts to grasp her waist, but she dances out of his reach.

“Now, Michael.” A sound of discontent spills from his lips, but he moves to comply.

Mallory retrieves her supplies from the en suite while Michael undresses. Coming back into the room, she sees that he’s stretched himself out over the left side of his quilt. The position of his arms pulls his lean biceps into relief. The blond sweep of his eyelashes touches his cheeks. He’s the picture of a willing martyr.

Shivers rack her spine at the thought of what’s to come. She sets a small wax warmer onto his nightstand along with fresh muslin strips, a popsicle stick and an aftercare serum. Michael’s eyes shoot open at the snap of her nitrile gloves.

He turns his head to the left and catches her calculating gaze. He must see the maniacal glee that she’s trying to contain because he asks, “what exactly are you going to do to me, Mistress?”

Mallory flexes her gloved fingers. “Oh baby, when I’m done with you, you aren’t going to have hair below your armpits.” His gulp of fear is exaggerated, cartoonish. Mallory steps forward and gets to work.

The heat of the wax on his skin makes Michael flinch. His breaths come fast and shallow as Mallory applies a strip to his left armpit with her right hand and pulls traction with her left.

The sound of hair rending from tender flesh is drowned out by Michael’s yell.

Inspecting the brown hairs trapped in the wax, Mallory wrinkles her nose. The small movement has the stereo in the corner of the room starting up with a blare of classical piano. The Goldberg Variations. _Perfect_.

Mallory lets the trill of the piano guide her through the rest of this armpit and the next.

Michael’s screams are distant. She gets lost in the methodical spread of the wax, the pull of his tan skin and the rip of the muslin strips.

Mallory surfaces near Michael’s bellybutton. The track’s flipped over to Chopin. Ballade No. 1 if she’s not mistaken.

She runs her eyes from the patch of reddened skin where Michael’s treasure trail used to be, up his quivering belly and heaving chest to his face. The muscles in his clenched jaw jump under her gaze. He lets out a deep exhale when he realizes she’s paused.

There’s anguish in his eyes, but a distinct lack of tears. Mallory ruthlessly supresses the flash of pride she feels at his control.

Still, she can’t keep the warmth from her voice. “You’re doing so well. I’m going to move on to your groin now. Colour?”

Michael grimaces prettily. His voice is hoarse from strain. “Green.”

Mallory sucks her bottom lip in for a moment before releasing it with a pop. Michael’s eyes fixate on the spit slick shine of her skin. “Now, I’ve practiced his part, but just like your esthetician, I’m going to need your assistance.”

Michael’s eyes dart back to hers and he scowls. “Practiced with who?!” he growls. 

Mallory sends him a reproachful look. “Not on a real person,” she says, eyes flashing with warning. The Realistic Flesh Masturbator Love Doll Kai let Mallory practice on had been close enough. Obviously, there had been no hair on the doll, but it had helped Mallory get a feel for manipulating the skin around the groin and testicles. She’s determined to make it through this without causing lasting injury.

Without being asked, Michael moves his left hand down to his semi-hard cock and pulls it up against his abdomen. It rises to full mast as Mallory stretches the skin of his balls. She quirks a brow and says, “do you give Mina the same show?”

Michael scoffs. “Hardly. Mina’s an older women who bears a striking resemblance to Mick Jagger. ”

Mallory digs her nails into his delicate skin through her gloves. “What was that?”

He pales. “N—no, Mistress," Michael stutters. The honorific never fails to get Mallory going.

The air of the room feels delicious on her bare folds as she spreads her thighs and brings her left knee up to brace herself on the edge of the bed. “That’s what I thought," she murmurs. 

Waxing Michael’s groin and balls goes smoother than she expected. Pun intended.

Using extra pressure, Mallory squishes his sack nearly flat to the bed and against his thighs as she works her way from front to back and side to side. The crushing sensation has feeble sounds of pain leaving Michael’s gaping mouth, but he never loses his erection.

The curve of his shaft makes her mouth water. “You like having your balls tortured don’t you, baby?”

“Yes, Mistress," he whines.

When she finishes pulling the last strip of wax, Mallory removes her nitrile gloves and inspects him for stray hairs. Satisfied with her efforts, she brings her right hand down in a firm slap against the inflamed skin of his sack; just to prolong the sting.

Michael squawks and jerks in his supine position. Ever the over producer, a spurt of precome drools from the head of his cock. Mallory coos and pets a knuckle over the tip. “Do you want help with that, baby?”

Michael’s cerulean eyes blink at her guilelessly. He licks his lips and eyes the skin of her thigh where the skirt of her dress had ridden up when she kneeled on the bed. “Please fuck me, Mistress. I—I want you to fuck me.”

Mallory’s been avoiding this. She’s been scared that penetration is going to make her catch feelings. But as she eyes the rosy skin of his cock, she finds she doesn’t care. There’s an ache inside her that she’s certain he can fix. “Okay, baby. I’ll sit on your cock, but I’m going to use my new toy while I do.”

Mallory extends her right hand toward the full-length mirror beside Michael’s closet and closes her eyes. With a deep inhale and flex of her fingers the five headed Wartenberg Wheel she purchased yesterday comes flying through the rippling surface of the glass and into her hand.

A nasty side effect of the injuries Mallory sustained in the Outpost was sterility. She doesn’t spare a thought for protection as she moves further onto the bed and upwards to straddle Michael’s hips. She knows he’s clean. The hellfire in his veins would burn off any disease before it could take hold.

“I want you to put your hands back behind your head, Michael. I’m going to use the wheel on you as I ride you. Colour?”

Michael’s already moving his hands when he replies, “green.”

Mallory takes a moment to spread the wetness of her unclothed center over the velvety heat of his cock. When he’s adequately slicked, she lifts up on her knees. She’s takes a moment to appreciate that she’s still wearing her boots.

Positioning him with a small hand at his base, Mallory spears herself viciously on Michael’s cock.

The stretch isn’t as bad as it would have been if she hadn’t been using her free toy of the month from Tickle Your Fancy. The suction cup dildo has been an excellent addition to her nightly showers.

Bach’s Prelude In C Minor plays as Mallory begins to undulate her hips. After a few thrusts, she grinds down on Michael’s length and holds him deep inside her. His eyes are screwed shut and she can see him fisting his hands in his hair, trying desperately to keep them behind his head.

Bracing herself on his chest with her free hand, Mallory brings the pinwheel clenched in her right fist up to his torso. She presses the tool into the skin at the center of his ribcage and drags the spikes down to the soft skin of his belly and over the reddened areas where she’d waxed him. The sharp pricking sensation makes Michael squirm. She feels his length twitch inside her and tightens her walls reflexively.

Mallory watches Michael suck in a breath and exhale. He’s rocking his hips infinitesimally, but with a downward press of her own, she keeps him pinned. As he sucks in another breath, she reverses the motion of the of the wheel and runs it diagonally over the skin of his left abdominals. The red marks it leaves behind are fun to dig her fingers into.

Michael starts to beg after a few more passes of the wheel. “Please Mistress, please. I nnn—eed, I—”

“I’ve got you, baby. You’re doing so well.” Mallory flings the pinwheel to the other side of the bed and starts a hard pace, fucking herself up and down on Michael’s cock. The wet sound of their bodies meeting builds in harmony with the rising fervor of Schubert’s Impromptus, Op. 90.

The strands of Mallory’s hair stick to her sweaty back as she snaps her hips forward and back. Michael’s cock curves perfectly to run along her sweet spot with every stroke. He moans as he bottoms out inside of her.

Mallory can feel herself winding tighter and tighter. She opens her eyes on a brutal down thrust to find Michael watching her.

He looks transfixed. Spellbound by the arch of her back in the evening light of his room. He pleads with her like she’s a goddess come to save him from the torments of this mortal plain. “Please, please, nnnn, I—can’t I need—”

Mallory keeps her hips moving. She keeps their eyes locked as she leans forward and drags the nails of both of her hands over the abused skin of his chest. “Come,” she commands.

Nocturne en mi bémol majeur heralds Michael’s descent into ecstasy. Staring into the black void of his dilated pupils, Mallory falls out of space and time. The hot rush of his come inside of her has her hurtling back to her body and into release.

\--------------------------------------------

Mallory waits until Michael’s unconscious before gently wiping the skin of his chest and groin with a warm cloth. She pats him dry and applies the waxing aftercare serum to his belly and balls. He snores on despite the cooling effect of the aloe vera.

She leaves the buttercup yellow panties she bought him at the end of his bed.


End file.
